Page 3 of Reaper Flame

His smart mouth had grown bolder during my months away. He needed a friendly reminder of who the real authority was around here. He may be the guy who skulked around in the shadows to gather intelligence, but he didn’t get his hands dirty.

“I’ll rip through your weedy spinal cord if you question my loyalty again,” I warned, my hands jumping to the pendant Zander gifted me. “And this necklace? Call it incentive. I’ll be burying it with the body of Zander Briarly.”

With any luck, I’d choke him with it. Zander messed with the wrong girl.

“Patience,” Hiram said, waving his hand. “We do not need to kill him. Not yet. He still has some use to me.”

Maybe Hiram knew as soon as I was done with Zander, he’d be next on my list. What other reasons did I have to live other than taking down everyone who wronged me? The only person who ever truly cared about me was hooked up to life support. There was nothing left to lose.

* * *

Hiram didn’t trust me to be alone for long periods, so I lived in his suite. Even with my own room, there was no privacy. The red blinking camera light in the corner reminded me that he was always watching. Although, after spending time as a teenager locked in the dungeon, I couldn’t complain.

Hiram didn’t need to worry about me escaping, though. Where the hell would I go? Back to Port Valentine to settle old scores and torch Lapland? Start afresh somewhere new in the knowledge he would be close behind? The bitter irony of history repeating itself was the universe’s way of saying this is where I was supposed to be.

Being back in Blackthorne Towers also afforded me the luxury of having eyes on my enemies. The Blackbird’s regular updates about the Sevens kept me in the loop about what they were doing. It gave me time to form a plan without worrying about making rent or looking out for someone trying to hunt me down.

My new cell rang, vibrating wildly on my bedside table. The only person who knew the number was Hiram. He’d installed tracking software to monitor every tap of my fingers. I felt like a kid whose Catholic parents were desperately trying to stop their horny teen from accessing porn.

I answered after two rings, as per his orders.“Hiram?”

He may not trust me to go outside yet, but he liked to keep me busy. Every day, he’d call to summon me to his workshop. He never rang at the same time. His calls were a test and he was trying to catch me out, but I hadn’t missed one yet.

“Did you dress as I told you?” he demanded, referencing the note he’d slid under my bedroom door before he left.

“Of course,” I replied. “Ready for a special occasion.”

I wore a green body-con dress which hugged my curves and made me feel like a sexy Tinker Bell. My hair was blow-dried into tousled waves and paired with a silver smokey eye and a pink, glossy lip. Understated, but sexy.

“Perfect,” he purred. I could almost hear the twisted smile spreading over his face in his tone. “The code today is your birth year.”

“I’m on my way,” I said, hanging up.

Going to Hiram’s workshop was the worst part of my new routine. My return from Port Valentine had reignited his enthusiasm for my so-called ‘education’. He’d taken my leaving as a personal insult and relished every opportunity to test my loyalty, giving me the scars to prove it.

My first lesson had been on obedience. It involved letting him burn me without moving or making a sound. In another, he forced me to use a blunt pen knife to cut a dismembered leg into fifteen pieces — the damn thing took hours, and my hands were blistered after sawing through the bones. Hiram believed all of our practice was preparing me to be his protégé, but it only gave me more reasons to hate him.

“Let’s get this over with…” I mumbled to myself as I left the penthouse to join him in the darkness below.

A guard, already waiting, escorted me to the elevator where another was ready to take over.Walking unattended was not an option.

He bowed his head to greet me. “Good evening, Kitten.”

The Blackbird may have gotten more brazen, but at least some of Hiram’s employees still showed me respect.

When I lived in the Towers as a teenager, it felt strange for grown men to treat me like royalty. Naively, I thought they must have felt sorry for me after what I endured at my Keeper’s hands. It wasn’t until a few years later that I learned the real reason why… they feared me, and the person they knew I’d become.

I shot the guard a small smile in reply. He shuddered in response. Maybe I truly was the heartless monster I saw every time I looked in the mirror. A few months ago, my heart softened for the first time in years. Now, it was as hard as fucking nails. Either that or I no longer had one.

After riding the elevator down the floors, I arrived in the dungeon. I tried to ignore the rattle of chains and groans coming from the hunched figures in the cells as I continued along the corridor to a locked door. I punched in my birth year and it chirped in confirmation. Hiram’s workshop was only accessible through his fingerprint or a code that changed every few hours, which only he knew. Most people who saw inside never made it out again.

Unlike usual, there were no cries for help when the door creaked open. Hiram stood alone amongst his tools and grinned as I entered. What was he planning? After asking me to dress up, I assumed we’d have company.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Hiram said. He gestured toward a red box carefully placed on his operating table and tied with a silky bow. “Look inside.”

I took a few steps closer, gritting my teeth and closing off my nostrils to prepare for the worst. Limbs, rats, worms, spiders... I wouldn’t put anything past him. The general rule is, the better dressed the package, the more unpleasant its contents are likely to be.

I lifted the lid and frowned. “What is it?”

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